


Handprints and Good Grips

by shipsdrifting



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bread Van, Canon Compliant, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, also only kind of, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsdrifting/pseuds/shipsdrifting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So what you’re saying,” Zayn says slowly, with a quirk of his eyebrow, “is that if we’re fucking, then you don’t get claustrophobic?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Bread van fic. Niall gets claustrophobic; Zayn helps out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handprints and Good Grips

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the anniversary of the glorious bread van incident. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't know much about phobias. Sex probably doesn't actually help with claustrophobia, and you probably shouldn't actually try anything like this.

 

Niall stares into the back of the nondescript white van, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, stepping up from where he and the other boys have been standing, a distance behind.

“It’s just kinda – small,” Niall manages to get out.

Of course. “Claustrophobia,” Louis murmurs. “Look, they’ve got pillows inside, though. It’ll be like camping!”

“Niall hates camping,” Zayn says.

“And so do you,” Liam adds, and Louis glares at him. Zayn rolls his eyes and turns back to the matter at hand.

“C’mon,” he coos, brushing his lips against the side of Niall’s face. “It won’t be for long, and I’ll be right next to you. We'll finally get out of here.”

Niall takes a breath and takes a tenuous step forward, craning his head into the van. Then he hops backwards again. “Dunno if I can do it,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s so small, and so many of us…” He grimaces and bites his lower lip. Zayn has never seen him look this worried or apologetic.

“Hey, it's okay if you can't do it,” Zayn puts a reassuring hand on his bare shoulder. “We can figure out something else, yeah?” Niall doesn't move, his expression remaining unsure.

“Like what?” Niall sighs. He runs his hands through the sides of his hair and takes a breath, standing up taller. “I don't know; maybe I can? I can try. Maybe – I just think – I don't know.” He shrugs lamely, chest deflating a bit. “I don't know.”

One way or another, they really have to get out of this hotel. It's making them _all_ a little claustrophobic. They’ve been practically on lockdown for the past two days, the mobs of fans encircling the whole resort and creating too difficult a barrier for them to safely go out anywhere. It’s driving all of them crazy. Packing them into the back of this bread van is the best method that Paul could devise to get them out safely so that they can finally go on their sightseeing trip.

From behind them, Liam starts tapping his foot, loud and impatient. “C’mon, can we – ”

Zayn shoots him dagger eyes.

He turns back to Niall. “Babe,” Zayn says, leaning closer and pitching down his voice. “You know, you’ve been in smaller spaces before, and you’ve done fine.” He dips his voice lower still. “Remember last month, when we were in the dressing room closet at -”

“That’s different!” Niall protests. “We were having _sex_.” As if that explains everything. Then his cheeks turn a little pink as he seemingly realizes the other boys are right behind them, almost within hearing distance.

“So what you’re saying,” Zayn says slowly, with a quirk of his eyebrow, “is that if we’re _fucking,_ then you don’t get claustrophobic?”

“Well – ” Niall sputters. He stops and ponders for a moment, forehead creasing in thought. “No, I guess not,” he says finally, shoulders rising in a small shrug. A trace of a grin flickers on his face. “‘s distracting, I guess. But anyway,” he snorts, “that’s not much help now, is it, in a van with three other people.”

Zayn moves his face close to Niall’s, eyelashes brushing up against his cheek in the way that always makes Niall shiver. “Who says they have to know?”

Well, Zayn concedes, being discrete while actually _fucking_ is probably too ambitious even for him. But Zayn can work around that. “I bet I could get you off in there without them even noticing,” he whispers against the shell of Niall's ear. “Right there in front of everyone.” He hears Niall choke on nothing. “As long as you can stay quiet,” he adds. When Niall pulls back, his pupils are blown, his mouth gaping open.

“Of course,” Zayn continues in a low murmur, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Niall's cheek again. “It’d have to be slow. You know, to make sure we use up the whole time.” He curves his lips into a wicked grin against Niall's face and lets his hand creep down to squeeze his upper thigh for emphasis. “I’d have to keep bringing you right to the edge and letting up, again and again, so that by the time we get there -”

“Hey,” Louis suddenly interrupts, glancing between them as they look up. Zayn shoots him a glare, but Louis shrugs it off. “Paul says they’re ready when we are. Are we gonna go?”

Before Zayn can tell him to fuck off, Niall responds. “Yeah,” he says, with a quick nod. Zayn nearly chokes in surprise. He didn't expect any of that to actually _work._ But Niall looks back at him and swallows thickly, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I think we’ll – I’ll be okay, I think.”

”Excellent.” Louis trots away back to the other guys.

Niall turns to follow, but Zayn grabs his hand. “Hey,” he says softly, and Niall spins back around against his arm. “We still don’t have to go if you don’t want, okay? I mean, I wasn’t kidding,” he adds, raising his eyebrows with a little smirk. “I’m totally down for this if you are. But don’t feel pressured, either, okay?” He squeezes Niall’s hand. “You know, if you still don’t wanna, I’ll tell them. They can go on ahead, and we’ll figure out something else, yeah?”

“No, no – ‘s okay,” Niall answers hastily. “I mean, I think – I think that sounded, um. Good.” He adjusts his trousers ever so slightly before looking up at Zayn with a nervous but somehow _intense_ smile, and when their eyes meet, Zayn gets the impression that that was more than a bit of an understatement. _Interesting._

They climb into the van one by one, first Zayn and Niall settling in one corner, and then Louis, Liam, and Harry sitting along the other side.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Liam asks, eyes filled with concern. Niall does look a little more freaked out by it all now as he sits with his knees hugged to his chest and stares out the back of the van.

“Yeah, are you sure?” Zayn echoes. He still has half a mind to get them out of the van right now and demand that Paul find another way for the two of them to leave. But Niall nods slowly and surely. His eyes dart to Zayn's for a split-second, the apprehension replaced by anticipation and traces of a tiny, eager smile playing on his lips. Zayn finds it equal parts adorable and hot, considering the circumstances. He inches sideways so that Niall is resting half-against him, and reaches around to give his shoulder a light touch. He glances down.

“Maybe it’d help if you put a pillow on top of you, so you have something to, y’know, hold onto,” Zayn suggests loudly. It doesn’t really make that much sense, but Harry, at least, seems to agree, and he hands him a pillow from their side. Niall gratefully accepts it in his lap, wrapping his arms around it in a hug. Zayn pulls a pillow out from underneath himself to place on top of his own lap, too. _In solidarity,_ he thinks wryly as his now-shielded left hand snakes up against Niall's leg to play under the bottom seam of his shorts, moving in a slow pattern and inching higher and higher.

“All ready to go?” Paul appears in the space outside the door and peers inside. “I think this one’s actually going to work.” He pats the side of the van proudly. Then he glances behind him and moves aside. “Ah – cameras first, then we’ll go.”

A few of the crew approach, and they jam in the camera and a furry microphone. “So what d’you think of this plan?” someone asks.

Louis and Liam take some digs at Paul’s usual plots to sneak them around in decoys. Harry beams on about how he used to be a baker, so obviously he loves the whole concept. Then, they point the camera at Niall, curled up covering his face and clearly uncomfortable with the presence of more objects in their small space. It irks Zayn, so before they can ask anything else, he pipes up:

“I really like it in here!” he exclaims with a grin, drawing the attention of the camera back toward him. He spins a story of how his family used to travel together in an old green van, with all of the kids crammed in the back just like this. (It’s not exactly a lie; it happened one time, sort of).

Eventually, they seem satisfied with the footage and head back off. But then, in a matter of seconds, Paul pokes his head in once more, bids them good luck and slams the door shut. They’re plunged into immediate darkness, nothing but a thin beam of light coming from the crack between the doors and a hazy glow filtering in from the front. Even as his eyes adjust, Zayn can barely make out the others’ faces.

He feels Niall tense beside him. “Relax,” he murmurs, stroking up his bare leg. He moves his hand up over Niall's shorts, pressing up his thigh, up further - and then Niall tenses up for a different reason. Zayn palms him through the thin denim – he’s already half-hard, hah – for a few seconds, before unbuttoning him with one hand and sliding his fingers under his pants. Zayn presses his hand slowly, deliberately, down through the coarse hair to the base of his cock. He rests his hair there for a moment, pretty sure Niall is holding his breath, before he begins to move. He moves with slow, barely-there touches, tickling the top and the underside of Niall's cock and down to his balls. Through the hazy light, Zayn watches him jolt at the touches, eyes squeezing shut as he takes a few controlling breaths.

But when Zayn finally grabs him to give a long stroke up the shaft, firm but gentle, Niall bites his lower lip and lets out a tiny groan, unable to conceal the sound.

“Everyone okay?” Harry drawls as the van slowly rumbles forward. “You want your waters?”

“Yeah, sure.” Zayn accepts their water bottles with one hand and gives one over to Niall. He takes a harried sip just as Zayn gives him another squeeze, and he almost chokes on it.

Zayn continues to stroke him with just a little pressure, still slowly and erratically, as Niall grows to full hardness beneath the pillow. Then he releases him, moving his hand to ghost his fingernails along the underside of Niall's cock. Niall keens. Zayn doesn’t want it to be over until they arrive, and until then, he wants to tease Niall so that there’s nothing else on his mind, tease him until he’s all but begging for release and Zayn can give it to him with a single touch when the time finally comes.

Zayn moves his hand up Niall's cock again and swipes his thumb over the head, already wet with precome. Niall’s breath hitches again, and Zayn spends a few tortuous moments giving all his attention to the head with his fingertips, squeezing and twisting and stroking as more and more wetness leaks out around his fingers.

The van suddenly bounces over a bump, and then they must arrive outside, because the faint buzzing of the crowd suddenly grows louder, and a bit more light starts filtering in.

“Are you okay, Ni?” Liam asks, voice sounding concerned. Everyone's faces are a bit more visible now in the light, and Niall does look pretty wrecked already, sweaty and flushed. Niall nods, his face turning a shade redder before he buries his head down into the pillow. Liam sighs sympathetically.

The sound of the crowd grows louder and louder, until it reaches a constant volume, sounding as if they're just outside the van.

“I think we might actually be getting away with this,” Liam says a little incredulously. “Think they're all still facing the main roadway.”

It's true - somehow. It doesn’t sound like they’re surrounding the van; and if they were, then they probably would have had to stop already anyway.

“Hah, if only they knew,” Louis laughs.

“Yeah, if only they knew,” Zayn echoes, his voice a murmur, “what was going on in here.” He directs the end of the statement at Niall, coloring his voice with a tinge of a smirk as he slides his hand more firmly back down Niall's shaft, now slick with precome and sweat. Niall whines into the pillow before lifting his head and giving Zayn a look, eyes wide and pupils dilated fully with frantic, almost pleading lust and _need_. It's far too early yet, even as they increase speed onto what must be the main road, so Zayn loosens his grip and watches Niall's face fall with a grunt of disapproval.

“C’mon,” Harry says then, clasping his hands together. “Why don’t we play a game to take all our minds off of everything?”

Louis gives one of his half-fond snorts, but Harry continues. “Maybe it can help with song ideas. I was reading this article the other day about creativity, and they had this game. Like, where someone starts with a random word, and then he next person thinks of a word that starts with the final letter of that word, and so on. And, like, you do that three or four times, and then you try to put them together in a song or something.”

Harry looks around the van expectantly. “What d'you think?” Louis raises a skeptical eyebrow, and Zayn gives a shrugging nod, trying for his typical, unphazed smile, even as Niall’s cock sits heavy and hard in his hand. He continues a lazy stroking, his fingers held in a loose circle sliding slowly back and forth while Niall attempts to weakly and unnoticeably thrust up into him.

Liam, at least, seems pleased with Harry's idea. “Okay, I’ll start!” he enthuses. “Something random. Um...” his face twists in thought. “Shop,” he finally says with a decisive nod. He nudges Louis in the side. “Now you go. Say a word that starts with P.”

Louis suppresses a snicker and looks around expectantly. After a brief, pregnant pause he says, “pillow.” He grins wanly.

Zayn shakes his head with a snort. He's next in the circle. “Pillow… whales,” he chooses, the first word he can think of.

“Niall?” Harry prompts.

“What?” Niall says, voice hoarse. He sounds absolutely wrecked in a way that goes straight to Zayn’s groin. Zayn is hard too; he has been for a while now, but he knows he can't get away with anything here, especially when he needs to focus on Niall. He adjusts and pushes the pillow down against his lap to stave off his arousal.

“You have to say a word that starts with the last letter,” Liam explains to Niall. “S.”

“Um.” Niall’s voice breaks again as Zayn gives a single, slightly harder tug. “Stroke,” he gets out, and Zayn has to suppress a laugh.

“Stroke like, the brain injury?” Liam’s forehead furrows.

“Or like, The Strokes, the band? ’cause they’re pretty sick,” Louis adds.

Harry grins. “Perfect! So now we write a song in the style of The Strokes, about shopping for a whale pillow – ”

“Wait,” Liam holds up a hand. “I thought he said Wales, like, the country. Not the animal. Which one was it?”

“Fine, a _Welsh_ whale pillow - ”

“Either way, this is gonna be a terrible song,” Louis interjects.

“Heyy,” Harry protests, and they glare at each other until Liam suddenly breaks out into song.

“Last night,” he croons, curling his voice into a poor Welsh accent while keeping on key with the song. “She said, oh baby a pillow whale, is what I need, let's go shop in Wales...”

“Brilliant,” Louis deadpans.

“Stop it!” Harry whines but begins to giggle despite himself.

The three of them continue on, laughing and arguing and riffing on different song lyrics and melodies. Most of the ideas end up so ridiculous that even Niall lets out a few hoarse laughs, seemingly spurring them on to continue. Zayn nods and hums along and gives a few suggestions, but he’s mostly focusing on Niall’s dick, picking up the pace and gripping just a bit harder around him, moving long strokes that have Niall holding back groans, his fingers clutching tight onto his pillow.

“You really like this, don't you?” Zayn finally voices, whispering in Niall's ear when the rest of them seem distracted. “You’re a bit dirty, aren’t you? You like how you’re getting off right here with everyone around, but nobody knows.” Niall swallows thickly and nods, all pretenses of embarrassment in his eyes drowned out by the thick weight of pure arousal. Zayn smirks and gives a particularly hard twist, and Niall lets out a tiny needy sound, eyes widening before he throws his face back down into the pillow.

The van continues at full speed, and Zayn keeps up a routine. He'll give Niall a few firm strokes, bringing him just a bit closer to the edge, before letting up to squeeze the base or just remove his grip altogether, scraping his fingernails lightly against Niall's balls or inner thigh until he practically writhes at the touch.

Zayn doesn’t know how long it’s been; it's been maybe ten or fifteen minutes since they got out from the crowd, so they might not have much time left. He glances over again. Niall looks tortured, sweaty and shaking a bit, head down, eyes closed and mouth in a little o shape. _Soon_ , Zayn thinks, actually taking pity – though on his own part, he's not doing much better. He takes some deep breaths and uses his free hand to press himself down through his jeans to will his own arousal at bay.

The van begins to decelerate and lurches in a careful turn. Zayn is pretty sure that means they're getting off the highway, but he's also pretty sure their destination is still a distance off from the main road. They make several more winding turns as Zayn keeps up a more consistent pace, slow and soft but steady. Niall seems to be losing control, writhing in small movements now and whimpering a little with each breath. Every once in a while Zayn will squeeze, or move up to swipe the head again, or pull a long, hard stroke up his whole shaft, bringing Niall just to the edge before letting up again.

The van slows down again, and then it takes a sudden sharp turn, jolting Niall against him. They must be almost there, then, Zayn reasons. Zayn ups the pace just a little, Niall's breathing growing more and more strained and erratic against him. Then they go over a bump, and Zayn involuntarily squeezes down a little harder, his thumb pressing up to the head. Niall's body tenses, his breath catching in his throat as he pushes his face down into the pillow, hard. Zayn doesn't think either of them can take it anymore. He maintains the pressure, sliding up and down in a few final, firm pumps, and Niall suddenly becomes entirely, impossibly still. He actually gasps his release, shuddering hard and spilling hot and sticky over Zayn’s hand and his own pants.

“Is he okay?” Harry questions – somehow, all three of them still appear more genuinely concerned than anything else – and Zayn is so, so painfully turned on right now with the way that Niall is still pulsing in his hand, but he schools his features into a mildly concerned frown and a shrug.

“I dunno. How much longer?” The van feels like it's slowed to a crawl on a bumpier road, so he hopes his timing wasn't that off.

“How much longer?!” Louis yells to the front of the van.

“We’re here, gonna open the door…”

Zayn and Niall's eyes meet in the near-darkness, and Zayn hastily pulls his wet hand out from Niall’s pants and rubs it clean on a pillow (poor pillow). Niall still looks flushed and dazed for a moment, but he scrambles to zip himself up just in time. The door opens, the sweet sunlight flooding in from the outdoors.

If anyone notices how thoroughly and bonelessly sated Niall is when he gets out of the van, they don't say anything – nor do they comment on the small but obvious stain on the front of his shorts. Zayn, unfortunately, does not have the same luck with the full boner that he can’t possibly hide when he gets out (“whoa, mate,” Liam says, eyes bulging out. “You weren’t kidding when you said you really liked it in there.”)

But then, when they finally manage to get a quick moment of freedom to use the toilet, Niall pulls him into the stall and shoves him against the wall for a searing kiss, filled with both of their angry lust and pent-up frustration, before kneeling down and popping out Zayn’s cock. He blows him hard and fast right there, getting him off in less than a minute before rising and pressing another rough kiss to the side of his mouth. “ _Fuck,_ I love you.”

  


 


End file.
